


Layers

by Macx



Series: Shards [1]
Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-12
Updated: 2011-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:26:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demons don't love. That's what Inuyasha always believed. But then Miroku happened; somehow. Torn between his demon side and his softer emotions, Inuyasha tries to understand his reactions. When his demonic side breaks through after a vicious curse and almost kills the monk, things get complicated...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Layers

 

Inuyasha murmured something inaudible and sat down cross-legged. Women! Especially those he was traveling with! Unnerving, annoying, aggravating, infuriating… women. Who needed them anyway?  
“Inuyasha?”  
And who needed this… this monk?!  
Miroku stepped close, sinking down at his side in his irritating calm way, and Inuyasha braced himself. He was sure a speech was heading his way.  
“It’s frustrating, isn’t it?”  
Huh?  
Inuyasha stared at the young monk in disbelief. No speech?  
“I mean, they are so close, but you can't touch them. It’s unnerving sometimes. One second you are their hero, having saved their lives, and then – bang, what do you think I am. And you just sit there and ask yourself what the hell you have done.”  
“What are you talking about?” Inuyasha snarled, not in the mood for talking.  
“You must be as frustrated as I am, aren’t you? I mean, Kagome and Kikyo…”  
“I don’t know what you mean.” Inuyasha rose swiftly, turning his back on the other man and attempted to walk away.  
Miroku's eyes were on his back and a faint, sad smile played around his lips. “Oh, you know, Inuyasha. You know very well.”

* * *

Miroku was watching the hanyou in their midst and there was no mistaking his rising tension. His temper was flaring more often than not and once Kagome lost her own temper and used 'sit' to keep him in line.  
Yes, something was up and Miroku knew just what it was.  
It wasn't really surprising. Kagome and Inuyasha had been dancing around each other ever since they had met. True, Miroku himself had come to join the group only much later, but by then the bickering, arguing and downright heated shouting matches worked like a well-oiled machine. And both enjoyed it, he realized. It was a way for Inuyasha to blow off some steam and Kagome had no scruples showing him when he went too far. His manners had truly increased, but his tact lacked and sometimes Miroku wondered whether or not Inuyasha actually knew he wasn't getting any further with the woman.  
Not that Miroku himself was doing any better in that department. His own womanizing skills hadn't gone any farther than some flirting and fondling with a little grope here or there. His own frustration was starting to match the hanyou's.  
So he followed the other man as Inuyasha sought out a solitary spot far away from the camp again. The hanyou sat underneath a tree, staring out over the little valley that sloped away in front of him. Miroku joined him.  
"You have to do something about your problem," he remarked after a while.

Inuyasha shot the monk a glare. How dare the insolent human follow him? He had come here to be alone, get a grip on things – literally. Now there was little chance of relieving that tension.  
“You are way too tense, Inuyasha. In our line of work and life, tension isn't always good. You need to relax, let your energies flow again. They aren't right now, curled up and knotty as they are inside your stubborn head." He flashed him a smile. "You know, there are many ways to get rid of that.”  
Inuyasha snorted, then stiffened.  
Miroku’s hand was resting on his thigh, and the heat of his body seemed to seep through his kimono. Inuyasha could feel Miroku’s fingertips caressing the inside of his thigh minutely, and he exploded without thinking.  
Miroku flew about four meters before he landed hard on the ground, rolling himself back to his feet immediately. He had to give it to him, he was a trained fighter.  
“Don’t you ever dare touch me like that again, monk!” Inuyasha hissed, fists clenched.  
The other man just dusted off his clothing, smiling at him innocently. The hanyou snorted and stormed away, before his anger would get the best of him and he would tear the monk apart.

*

Miroku wasn't sure what had made him approach the other man like this. Not that he hadn't thought about men before. Far from it, but he needed an offspring. At least his father had told him so. No one had ever asked Miroku if he wanted to pass this cursed air rip on to another innocent life. His parents and his grandparents had had no qualms. Sure, father a son and hope to kill Naraku before death; if not, tell the boy to go on with the family quest.  
He curled his right hand into a fist and pushed those thoughts away. What right had he to burden a child with this?  
Answer – none.  
But still, raised as a man who had only eyes for the qualities of women, who approached each and every one almost like on instinct, he had never allowed himself to fall for what part of him wanted.  
Miroku sighed.  
Meeting Inuyasha had let that want flare again. He had never thought he had a chance anyway. The hanyou was clearly infatuated with Kagome, and the girl liked him, so he had set his sights on Sango, who, despite her protests, interested him a lot more than any other woman he had ever met before.  
Still, the want remained. The secret dreams and hopes. Now he might have a chance. Inuyasha wouldn't approach Kagome with his desires and Miroku was a lot safer for him.  
Maybe…  
Just maybe…  
A man could dream, he decided. As he did every night.

* * *

He couldn’t sleep. Lying in his blankets, arms crossed behind his head, Inuyasha stared at the starry sky above him, feeling restless and nervous. He had no idea where this feeling had come from or when it had started, all he knew was that something wasn’t right. Sighing he rolled onto his side. There hadn’t been any youkai attacks, no life threatening situations, no fights of any kind - well, apart from Kagome’s hand that had landed in his face just before he had been 'sat'– nothing. He was tense, wired, ready to tear anyone or anything that came too close apart.  
That had been the day Miroku had… A picture sprang up in his mind, a memory of Miroku smiling, violet eyes looking at him intensely, a hand on his thigh – now why was that making him gasp? Why was his leg still tingling where the monk’s hand had been? And why was the warm tingling sensation spreading through his body all of a sudden? Inuyasha shifted in his blankets restlessly. Why by all seven hells was he thinking about Miroku? Why was such a simple thing making him tense and anxious? As fleeting as Miroku’s touch had been, as persistent were the effects. Not to mention about what the monk had suggested… Inuyasha froze at the very thought. And then his eyes widened in horror when he felt the tingling warmth rush from his thigh throughout his entire body and concentrate itself in his groin.  
Oh… gods…  
He was getting hard.  
Just by thinking about Miroku? And about the things… Inuyasha threw his blankets away in disgust and rose, making sure with one short glance that he wasn’t waking any of the others before he glided into the nightly forest.  
He didn’t see the pair of violet eyes following him.

*

Inuyasha slid down a tree, breathing in the cool night air and tried desperately to get his wayward mind back under control. Unfortunately it seemed to have other ideas while it was presenting him with pictures of Miroku – smiling at him, eyes sparkling with mischief, Miroku dripping wet from the rain, soaked kimono clinging to his slender body like a second skin, Miroku touching his thigh, hand gliding higher up his thigh oh so slowly, until it reached his member, fingertips ghosting over his length…  
Inuyasha surprised himself by moaning deep in his throat. Gods, he was really getting it off by thinking of another man? Of Miroku of all people? A part of his anatomy happily confirmed that thought by twitching lightly and he let out another moan, head falling back against the tree in misery.  
It couldn’t be… it just couldn’t!  
His apparent hardness begged to differ, twitching again, and he sighed. He spread his bent legs slightly…  
“You are way too tense, Inuyasha. You know, there are many ways to get rid of that.”  
Miroku’s words repeated themselves in his mind, and suddenly he felt very alone, wished the monk was here with him, touching him like that again. This time he wouldn’t reject him.  
Gods… was he really that desperate?  
Inuyasha moaned as he let his fingers slide into the kimono, closing his eyes as he wrapped them around his hardness. Biting his lower lip to suppress another moan, hips twitching into his own touch, he felt the sweet tension build, felt himself getting closer – yet it wasn’t enough. Something was missing, almost as if his own hand wasn’t enough anymore, something like… Miroku... Inuyasha gasped, hips bucking helplessly as his climax rolled over him with an unsuspected force.  
Falling back he breathed harshly, riding out the last waves of his completion, before he slowly dared to open his eyes again, only just comprehending what it had been that had shoved him into such a powerful climax.  
Miroku.  
And the remembrance of one simple touch, one thought of the…man! Gods, he was thinking about a man while he… and it had made him come like he hadn’t in a long time. Inuyasha swore silently, disgusted and shocked with himself while he cleaned himself up. He would have to face the others again, would have to look into those enthralling violet eyes again… how could he, after what had just happened?

*

Inuyasha walked back to the campsite, thoughts spinning chaotically in his mind.  
A twig snapped.  
He whirled around, hand ready to pull Tetsuseiga out – when the well-known scent told him he wasn’t in any immediate danger.  
“What are you doing here, prying around in the middle of the night?” he growled at the figure stepping out of the shadows.  
“Maybe the same as you… looking at the stars, meditate a little…”  
Miroku smiled at him and suddenly Inuyasha was thankful for the dim light preventing the monk from seeing him blush as his mind provided him with a flash of images of Miroku doing what he had done back there… and then it snapped back. What if Miroku had seen him? Gods…  
“Never sneak up on me like that again, monk! Be grateful you’re still alive!” he hissed, rushing past the other man.  
“Inuyasha.”  
“What?!”  
Miroku reached out and gently picked a twig out of his unruly long hair.  
“Better have a friend watch your back in the night. One never knows who might be… sneaking,”   he murmured, turning.  
Inuyasha gaped at his friend’s retreating form – and blushed even deeper. Even if Miroku hadn’t actually seen him, he had definitely known.  
Damn that man!

* * *

Time passed. Three days exactly. In that time Inuyasha watched his companion closely, but Miroku was his charming self, giving him the same smiles he gave to others, and he flirted with the women they met just the same. Somehow it bothered Inuyasha. Not just the flirting but the fact that Miroku wasn't the slightest bit disturbed by his reaction to the monk's advances. He was a ladies, man, right? He didn't hit on men on a regular basis, correct?  
Inuyasha grumbled to himself as he sat close to a river that ran near their current camp site, an old shack Sango had discovered. He had stuffed his hands into the sleeves of his robe, folded his legs under him, and currently glared at the hapless fish swimming in the stream. His ears twitched spasmodically.  
He was confused.  
He was angry.  
He was still tense around the others, now especially Miroku. Where before he had wanted more from Kagome, he now thought about the monk a lot.  
Too much! he thought angrily.  
He was noticing the slight form under the black and purple robes, the smiles, the hair hanging into his forehead, the sparkle in the violet eyes, the little pony tail he longed to mess up…  
Damn!  
Inuyasha snarled to himself, hunching down more.  
He had been even more rude and brusque in the last few days, especially to Kagome and Miroku. While Kagome was used to his temper shifts where she was concerned and usually countered with some of her own, Miroku wasn't. Still, he took the insults and snide remarks almost stoically.  
"There you are."  
The voice made him jump and reach for Tetsuseiga and he barely relaxed as he recognized who had surprised him. Miroku. The cursed monk had actually managed to sneak up on him!  
"What do you want?" he demanded.  
"Sango and Kagome are bathing. I decided it's healthier for me to be far away from where they are now."  
Inuyasha arched a sarcastic eyebrow. "No peeking, Miroku?" he growled.  
"No, I'm not in the mood."  
"Now there's a first."  
Miroku just smiled angelically and that smiled did more to Inuyasha's insides than any youkai could.  
"So, it's just the two of us," the dark-haired man said conversationally and came closer.  
The hanyou moved involuntarily back and bumped into the willow that grew close to the river.  
"We might just figure out what keeps you so tense, Inuyasha."  
"I'm fine!"  
"No, you're suffering from something that weighs heavily on you."  
Inuyasha growled again but Miroku wasn’t even remotely impressed. Leaning into his personal space he just smiled at the hanyou, placing one hand on his hip. Inuyasha buried his claws into the tree he was leaning against, inhaling deeply at the rush of desire this simple touch was causing. Miroku’s hand glided over his hip and down one thigh and Inuyasha felt himself shiver.  
This wasn’t right, he shouldn’t allow the other man to touch him like that, should shove him away immediately, he should… Gods, but his body responded to the touch, leaving him frozen to the spot while Miroku touched him even further, hands gliding between his legs, cupping and squeezing gently. Inuyasha gasped with the wave of sensations, feeling his hips twitch into his friend’s grip.  
“You’re hard, Inuyasha. You need this, you need relief, to let go… clear your mind. Let me help?”  
No… get away from me… Inuyasha wanted to scream his denial, but to his shock he just moaned something incoherent, felt Miroku starting to caress and stroke him. The monk was really close now, leaning against him, and he could feel the other man’s breath on his neck, smelled his arousal, matching his own. Miroku was now stroking him through the fabric of his kimono and Inuyasha closed his eyes, giving in to his own desire, the increasing sensation of heat and want  Miroku was creating inside him, until it became too much. Gasping and panting he felt himself jerk violently into Miroku’s hand, helplessly coming again and again.  
Miroku let go of him and Inuyasha almost sagged to the ground, his knees not much more than jelly. Only the tree behind him and the hard body in front of him kept him upright.  
"I think we found the source of your tension," the monk murmured into one pointed ear.  
Inuyasha pushed him away and the infuriating smile made the hanyou want to wipe it off that handsome face. He decided on a glare, but even that didn't faze the dark-haired man.  
"Nothing's wrong with me!" Inuyasha snapped.  
"Of course."  
Miroku smiled more. Inuyasha just whirled around and stalked off down the river. He needed some distance, he needed some time alone, and he needed to clean himself.

Miroku watched the hanyou leave, a hard to interpret expression in his eyes. He still saw the expression of pleasure and relief on the smooth features, heard the panting breaths, the racing pulse of his companion.  
You forced yourself on him, part of him whispered and he curled away from that thought.  
Was he really that desperate that he had used Inuyasha's growing need to satisfy himself? To touch what he normally wouldn't? To hear those wonderful moans and whimpers?  
Yes, that part told him. You have. You gave him no way out.  
Damn!  
He settled down in the shade of the tree and stared out over the river. He had forced him; his friend. Someone who was confused about his body's needs and desires, about what his mind told him and what he so truly craved.  
He loves Kagome, you stupid houshi. All you are is a way of relief, to be thrown away.  
But what if he was so desperate for that contact that he was willing to be just that…?

* * *

The night was cloudy and almost starless, the moon a fat blob of silver against the black sky. A small fire flickered in the middle of their current camp, right in the middle of nowhere. They had left the last village two days ago and hadn't met many people on their path. Sango, Kagome and Shippo were all fast asleep. Inuyasha had chosen to spend the night outside the circle of friends, and Miroku hadn't fallen asleep yet. He was gazing at the canopy of leaves, his body and mind relaxed.  
He turned his head when he sensed someone approaching him. In the sudden ray of moonlight peeking through some clouds he saw a flash of silvery white, golden canine eyes glowed slightly. The priest smiled faintly when he realized who was standing in front of him, and he tossed his blanket aside, following the retreating form of his friend into the dark forest.  
Stupid, part of him raged. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You're setting yourself up for a lot of pain.  
But the desire to hold this man again, to see the features in total rapture, to hear the moans and whimpers as he pleasured him was too strong.  
Inuyasha was waiting for him at the nearby clearing, leaning against a tree, arms crossed in front of his chest.  
He didn’t even look up when Miroku approached the stiff form, knowing only too well what Inuyasha needed. He had hoped that it also was what he wanted. Miroku stopped for a brief second, frowning at the thought, but then Inuyasha did look up, and Miroku was lost.  
Reaching out he ran a hand through the long silvery strands, feeling their silken texture as they played over his skin. Inuyasha stood stock still, only unfolding his arms as he relaxed against the tree, his golden eyes closing as he shuddered.  
   
*  
   
Inuyasha didn’t known what had gotten into him to wake Miroku, all he knew was that he couldn’t forget the monk’s touch, or how his lips had felt on his skin, sending him over the edge. And he knew that something inside of him needed that kind of touch again, needed to be caressed and held, needed -- Miroku. And Miroku had understood.  
He was standing in front of him again, close, oh so close he could smell him easily, even smell his arousal. Miroku’s fingers were gently running through his hair. The fleeting caress made him relax and he shuddered when fingertips were ghosting over his bare neck, making him tilt his head in an unspoken request. The other man wasted no time taking it, and Inuyasha gasped when Miroku leaned against him, gently pushing his hair aside and started nibbling and kissing at the exposed skin of his neck. It sent trails of fire through his body, concentrating in his groin, and he shivered again. Miroku’s hand roamed gently over his body, stroking him through the fabric of the kimono and Inuyasha dug his claws into the tree behind him. They had been standing like this before and the mere memory made his manhood stir – and right now it was much more than just a memory. Miroku gently nipped at his jaw line, fingers gliding between the layers of his clothes, searching for bare skin.  
“Inuyasha,” he whispered hoarsely, embrace tightening, and he could feel his friend’s arousal now.  
Miroku slipped a knee between his legs, pressing again his crotch and Inuyasha couldn’t suppress the moan this caused, hips twitching into the pressure.  
“Let me see you. Please?”  
He felt himself nod, felt Miroku untie his kimono, cool night’s air caressing his skin, followed by hands ghosting over his flesh, making him shudder.  
“Gods, you’re beautiful,” a soft voice whispered before Miroku gently bit the crook of his neck, licking his way down his chest, sucking at his nipples.  
Inuyasha moaned as a jolt of yet unknown pleasure ran through his body, knees giving way. Miroku’s hands were there, guiding him to the ground, before they continued their ministrations, slipping between his legs, teasing his hardness. Miroku worked his way down his body, making Inuyasha shudder and tremble with every new spot he paid attention to.  
Suddenly he felt a hot wetness engulfing him, and Inuyasha cried out with both surprise and desire, hips bucking helplessly as Miroku’s tongue and fingers did wonderful things to him. He buried his clawed hands in the other man’s dark hair, spreading his legs involuntarily to grant more access and felt Miroku tease and stroke parts of his body that he’d never thought of as sensitive. But obviously they were, and the sensations were incredible, making him moan and pant, writhe and buck. And then Miroku sucked at his length and he cried out the other man’s name as the pleasure reached its peak.

Coming back to himself slowly Inuyasha rolled onto his side, pulling the open kimono over his exposed body. Violet eyes were watching him sadly as he rose without a word and vanished into the forest. Miroku sighed as he touched his lips, the evidence of the hanyou’s desire still traceable, his scent still lingering on his own body. He gasped when he touched his own hardness and closed his eyes.  
Minutes later he whispered a name as he reached his own completion, a name he desperately wanted to scream out passionately but would never dare to.  
He had let himself fall. Fall for the hanyou, fall for Inuyasha, and it was more dangerous than facing any of Naraku's minions or Naraku himself.  
He was losing his heart to someone who had no place for it.

* * *  
   
Two days had passed since their encounter in the woods and thankfully Inuyasha had too much to do beating the hell out of two youkai making the lives of a small community near the river harder than it should be. It helped to distract from the confusing emotions boiling inside of him. Slashing and punching at the ugly face in front of him, he took less satisfaction than usual out of beating a youkai opponent and when he finally delivered the death blow, there was almost no feeling of victory inside of him. The only feeling that continued was that of confusion.  
And longing.  
He pushed it away and locked it behind steel doors. He didn't long for Miroku's touch, his nearness, his smile. But as he returned to the others who had together defeated the second youkai, he couldn't but glance at the monk, check him for injuries as he had formerly only done for Kagome, and reassure himself that there were no wounds. A few bruises maybe, but no wounds.  
How had his interested in Kagome waned, and flared for this man? This annoying womanizer who couldn't wait to find the mother of his children to father a son? Someone who charmed his way into every female's heart? Someone who flirted with each and every woman they met?  
And who had touched him so gently; who had brought him release in a way Inuyasha had never thought was possible. Who had stroked and kissed and nibbled at his skin, who had driven him higher and higher until he had exploded in a climax that had shattered his soul.  
Inuyasha screwed his eyes shut and growled to himself. No! He didn't fancy the other man, nor did he long for him.  
But that night, he was back with him again. And the next. And the one after that. Safe from youkai attacks, Miroku rekindled and stoked the flame inside the hanyou. It became an addiction, a dangerous addiction he couldn't let go of.

Inuyasha hissed and bucked as those well known hands on his body opened his kimono, brushing over his skin, stroking and caressing spots that elicited moans and shudders, lips and tongue added to increase the pleasure. He closed his eyes to the other man’s ministrations. Miroku could play him like an instrument, knew where to tease featherlike and where to stroke harder, where to lick and where to bite, and what effects each had on the hanyou. But then the touches went away, the rustle of clothing the only thing he could hear. Looking, his eyes widened in surprise when he saw Miroku straddle him – as naked as on the day he was born. He had seen the monk in the nude before, but that had been an entirely different matter.  
“Shhh,” Miroku just whispered, stretching out over him, and then he could feel the other man’s body pressed against his, skin meeting skin for the first time since they had become – what? Lovers?  
He didn’t get the chance to think about it because Miroku continued to touch him – but this time it was his entire body gliding over his, sensations new and oh so good, making him forget about anything than this moment. Miroku reached for his pocket, producing a little jug, and Inuyasha frowned. What…? The scent coming from the oily liquid was a fresh aroma, like some herbs the monk occasionally used, and he poured it into his palms.  
“What are you doing?”  
“It’s all right, Inuyasha. This will help you relax, get rid of all the tension.”  
“I don’t want… gods!” The latter was almost cried out when Miroku stroked his entire hardness with his slick hands, holding down his bucking hips.  
His eyes slid shut of their own volition and he flew in the new sensation.  
“Inuyasha, listen. I want you to hold absolutely still now, until I tell you otherwise, or you’ll hurt me. Can you do that?”  
Sure, everything…  
Inuyasha managed a nod – and then his eyes flew open as he heard Miroku give a hissing moan, felt something incredible hot and slick and tight sliding onto him …  
“Miroku! What …?”  
Violet eyes looked down at him, dark with a desire he hadn’t noticed there ever before. Miroku supported himself on his chest as he minutely lowered himself onto his length, taking him into his own body! And gods, if this didn’t feel good, better than anything the monk had ever done to him before. Groaning he fought the urge to thrust, to just take – Miroku had said it would hurt him? He knew he was stronger than the human, could easily break him should he not be in control of his powers.  
But then Miroku made a sound deep in his throat and moved, and Inuyasha couldn’t help it. With a low growl he grabbed the man’s wrist and flopped them around, burying himself deep into the other man, regardless of whatever he might say. To his surprise Miroku didn’t protest. On the contrary – he cried out, met every deep thrust with one of his own, almost sobbing every time.  
“Inu…yasha… gods, yes … I love you…”  
Golden eyes widened in shock, but then Miroku bucked wildly, screaming his name again, pulling him down into him and reality fled him as he got lost in his own pleasure.

*

Looking down at the man under him, still breathing hard in the afterglow of his own hard climax, Inuyasha pulled back roughly, ignoring the hiss of discomfort that action caused. He rearranged his clothes and rose swiftly, teeth clenching as he took in the naked body to his feet. Miroku lay sprawled on the ground, eyes still closed and the confirmation of his own passion drying on his stomach. He looked absolutely – adorable.  
“… I love you… “  
The harshly panted words, cried out in the throws of passion were still ringing in Inuyasha’s ears. He wasn’t even sure the monk had realized what he had said, but he had no doubt he had meant it.  
“Inuyasha?”  
Puzzled violet eyes were looking up at him, making something inside of him cringe.  
“No!”  
And he fled.  
“Inuyasha!”

Miroku slowly gathered his clothes, cleaning himself up mechanically, and slid into the kimono. He had stimulated Inuyasha to his limits, had provoked the hanyou into taking him, had himself allowed to let go and feel. And for a brief moment he had felt, had let down his guard and made himself believe it was for real.  
Baka that he was.

* * *

The village consisted of seven huts on man-high poles, each with a ladder or stairs leading to the entrance. The little group walked down the only road and Kagome looked around curiously.  
"No one's here," she remarked.  
"That's obvious," Inuyasha muttered.  
Everything appeared deserted. There were no animals, no baskets of fruit or vegetables, no firewood stocked near the houses, no dogs barking, no stray cats – and no people.  
Miroku walked over to the closest house and climbed up the stairs. "Hello?" he called.  
No answer.  
Pushing aside the tatters that had been a curtain once, he looked inside.  
"Empty," he told the others.  
Inuyasha frowned. Something felt wrong here and it wasn't the lack of life. Suddenly his nose picked up a sharp scent and his ears flattened. He whirled around as sensitive ears picked up a rustle and a growl left his throat.  
A man had appeared in the middle of the street and at his sight, Kagome gave a little gasp, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. He was ancient, wrinkled, dressed in old clothes that had seen better days, and he kept himself upright with a staff. Inuyasha felt like crouching down and preparing for a fight, drawing his sword to ward off evil – because of this little man?  
Granted, a very ugly man. His face was horribly disfigured as if something had slashed it with deep claws. One eye was covered by a piece of cloth, the other had been almost destroyed by the attack. He was hairless, with only a few tufts still left on his scarred head. One ear was intact, the other no longer existent.  
"Eh, hello," Miroku called and descended the stairs. "We're travelers and…"  
"Demon," the old man hissed.  
Miroku stopped and shot Inuyasha a look. The hanyou didn't move from his battle-ready position.  
"You and your kind have killed us all!" the old man raged. "You seek to destroy us, take our land, our children, our very souls!"  
"Inuyasha isn't evil!" Kagome protested.  
The horrible face turned to her and she froze. "Youkai or hanyou, they're all alike. You collaborate, you protect, you love them! But in the end, they betray you and do this!" He gestured at his face.  
"A demon did this to you?" Miroku asked, coming closer.  
"Yes, a demon of the worst sort. His line, his blood! I defied him by surviving, and I defy you by cursing your very existence, hanyou! May you find what you so badly want! May you turn into what you crave to be! May you slay all who travel with you!"  
And then he added something in a dialect Inuyasha had never heard. It was neither a youkai language, nor a human one. Miroku just paled and shook his head.  
"No!" he protested. "You can't do that to him!"  
But the man just walked away. As the monk tried to follow, the fragile looking figure lashed out with his staff, catching Miroku unawares and belting him hard. He fell to his knees with a gasp. And the man was gone.  
Inuyasha felt a flash of something shoot through him as Miroku fell, as he heard the soft gasp of pain, but he caught himself. Instead his eyes scanned for the strange man, he sniffed the air for the sharp smell, but there was nothing left. He was gone.  
"Miroku, are you all right?" Kagome called.  
"Fine," the monk managed and got to his feet. "For such a frail old man he's very fast and very strong…"  
"What did he say?" Sango demanded.  
Dark eyes met amber ones and Inuyasha felt a curl of foreboding.  
"It was a curse," Miroku said softly.  
"Curse?" Shippo echoed. "Why? What for? What kind of curse?"  
The violet eyes didn't waver. "That the hanyou shall be the youkai that hides inside at the next full moon. To give in to the dark and evil side, to kill and slay, and drink blood. To become the creature of darkness they all came from."  
Inuyasha felt cold all of a sudden. Memories of his demon side rose unbidden, the sight of blood on his elongated claws, the smell of death, the thrill of taking a life, be it youkai or… human. The rush of it all.  
Kagome wrapped her arms around herself. "Why would he do such a terrible thing? And can this be a real curse?"  
Miroku shrugged, breaking the eye-contact to Inuyasha. "I don't know. Maybe it's a hoax, but maybe not. We should leave."  
Everyone looked at Inuyasha, who glared back defiantly. He drew himself up to his full height and pushed past them.  
"He's just a mad old man," he huffed.  
But somewhere deep inside he felt the first tendrils of fear.  
What if not?  
What if the curse came true…?  
   
 * * *

"So what if the curse is true?" Sango asked matter-of-factly as they sat around their evening fire, far away from the deserted village and the scarred old man.  
Inuyasha had chosen a place far away from them, sitting on a sturdy branch in a tree, gazing out into the night. Kagome had gone to talk to him, but she had returned with no luck at all. Her mood was as dark as everyone's and not even Shippo had something to remark on.  
"Then we keep away from Inuyasha tomorrow night, let it run its course," Miroku replied calmly.  
"I wonder why he did it," Kagome murmured. "And who disfigured him so horribly?"  
Sango shrugged. "Some youkai. Then again, the old man said he was of Inuyasha's line and blood."  
"You mean… a relative?"  
Her brows drew together. "There is only one I can think of. Sesshoumaru."  
They stared into the fire until Miroku rose. "I'll see if I can talk to him," he murmured and walked out into the darkness around their fire.

Miroku had no trouble finding their missing hanyou. He just walked to the tree Inuyasha had settled down on and sank against the wide trunk. Silence reigned around them, only broken by the soft breeze rustling through the grass and leaves, as well as the occasional insect.  
"What do you want?" Inuyasha finally broke the spell.  
"Nothing."  
Silence once again. Then, "Leave."  
"No."  
There was a low growl. "I don't want your company!"  
"But you need it."  
"What for?"  
"You'll know."  
Miroku smiled a little as Inuyasha had no reply for that. He hadn't planned on any kind of physical closeness tonight. He just wanted to be there when Inuyasha finally decided he needed to share. In whatever way the hanyou deemed it right.  
Time passed as he leaned against the tree, and finally there was a soft rustle as Inuyasha jumped off the tree. He landed in a crouch, golden eyes aglow in the bright light of the almost full moon. Tomorrow it would be full; tomorrow those eyes might be red and filled with evil.  
They regarded each other for a moment, then Inuyasha joined him, sitting down slightly turned away from him. Miroku risked his luck and touched the tense form. The hanyou didn't pull away, just looked at the pale hand holding him, then the human who had dared to touch without asking.  
Ever since their encounter on the forest floor, ever since Inuyasha had come inside him, the hanyou had changed somehow. He was looking at Miroku from under drawn eyebrows, those amber eyes filled with something the monk couldn't read. It was as if Inuyasha expected something to happen, but nothing had.  
In a way Miroku understood the fear that lurked beneath that tough exterior. No one had ever been that close to the half-demon, no one had ever done this to him, and he let Miroku come back. He actually came for him, silently requesting the intimate moments. But each time he recoiled after the act, shocked by the need and the emotions, afraid to let the truth sink in.  
Miroku himself had accepted his truth already. He loved a hanyou; he loved this hanyou.  
"Inuyasha," Miroku said softly.  
"The curse is not true," was the growled reply.  
"It might be. It sounded and… felt real."  
"You're wrong!"  
"We can't risk anything."  
"I have Tetsuseiga! I can't turn into a demon!" Inuyasha spat, then pulled roughly away. "I can't."  
"We can't risk it," Miroku repeated patiently.  
"So what do you want to do? Seal me somewhere?" There was almost fear in that harsh voice. Almost.  
"I have to. For your own good."  
Their eyes met and Miroku steeled himself against the flash of betrayal in the hanyou's amber expression. The ofuda were to ward off evil; Inuyasha wasn't evil, but he would be dangerous.  
"We will find a secluded place," the monk explained, "like the cave we passed by yesterday, and we'll wait out the moon."  
Golden eyes closed and claws buried into the soft ground. "It can't be for real," he whispered.  
Miroku moved slowly toward him and those wonderful eyes rose to look at him. There was suddenly so much pain and desperation in there, so much fear and terror, he longed to just kiss him. But then the emotions were wiped away. Miroku watched as Inuyasha drew back, rose to his feet, and finally jumped up into the tree again.  
"Sleep well," he whispered, knowing the hanyou would hear him.  
Then he turned and went back to the camp.

* * *

Morning was a solemn affair. They made breakfast, then packed and started to walk back the way they had come, circumventing the deserted village. Sango and Kagome had agreed that the cave might be the best option since it had only one entrance and exit. Inuyasha had joined them but declined any kind of food, and he was silent.  
Kagome had announced that she had to be back home because of school and an important exam, but she was reluctant to go. Her large eyes showed her worry and while it touched something inside Inuyasha, the emotions of before had changed. Where he had missed her when she hadn't been there or yearned for something he might never have with the human girl, there was now just acceptance of her presence. Maybe he had loved her; at least he had felt some softer emotions when it came to Kagome. But now it was nothing but the need to protect her in their quest for all the shards of the jewel.  
Kagome regarded the white-haired hanyou worriedly. "I should stay…" she started.  
Inuyasha brusquely shook his head. "No!"  
"But.."  
"Go home!" he snapped.  
Annoyance and stubbornness rose inside the girl and she drew herself up. "Right. The mighty Inuyasha can fight this on his own."  
"Exactly! Just go!"  
Because if she stayed, Kagome would be just another possible victim to the demon. Like Shippo and Sango and – Miroku. His golden eyes fell on the man in question and he got was an encouraging smile. Damn the monk!  
"Okay, I'm leaving," Kagome announced. "Sango, could you get me back to the well?"  
The demon huntress looked at Inuyasha, then shot a silent question at Miroku.  
"Go," he replied softly. "I'll keep an eye on him. Take Shippo, too. The less innocents, the better."  
Inuyasha tried not to wince at that. If he truly did turn into the full demon, he would kill whatever came too close, whatever he fancied taking, and he wouldn't stop at his friends.  
"Be careful," Sango said seriously.  
"As always."  
She picked up Kirara and threw her in the air. The small, two-tailed cat morphed into her much more impressive self, fire erupting from her paws and tails. Kagome and Sango climbed on her back, then Shippo jumped up. Three pairs of eyes looked down at the two men, then Kirara flew off, moving almost lazily.  
"You should've left with them," Inuyasha growled, not looking at his only companion.  
"And you shouldn't be alone," Miroku argued.  
Inuyasha glared at him. "I'm old enough to look after myself!" he snapped.  
A mild smile graced the monk's lips. "Of course, but if the curse runs true, you need someone to… hold you back."  
"Yes, the seals," Inuyasha growled, then the hanyou turned on his heels and stalked away toward the cave. He was very much aware of the light steps of Miroku as the other followed him, unperturbed by his outburst.  
Secretly he was glad to have the company.

* * *

He couldn't believe that the curse would overpower Tetsuseiga. The sword made of his father's fang was powerful, had always lifted the demon-side, turning him back into the hanyou he had been born as. Still, Inuyasha felt a curl of fear in his stomach. The old man with the missing eye had scared him – even if he would never admit it to anyone. Inuyasha wasn't afraid of anything; never.  
Unbidden, the ancient, wrinkled, scarred face reappeared before his inner eyes. A face disfigured by his brother's minions. A man who had fought death and survived, but he had never recovered. Mad and powerful, he had cursed the only living relative of the demon who had taken his face.  
Inuyasha sank to the floor of the cave, amber eyes on the mouth of the cave he had chosen as his prison. He couldn't but notice the lone figure standing there, working with the seals. The innocent looking ofuda with the wards written on them had been pinned to rocks at the mouth of the cave. Miroku had been his silent companion throughout the journey to this cave, which was little more than a crack in the stone that widened to form the place he now just silently waited in. For the transformation? For any kind of move or word from Inuyasha? The hanyou didn't know.  
He shivered again as something cold brushed over his soul and his grip on the sword tightened. He wouldn't give in to his demon side. Tetsuseiga would protect him.  
Soft steps alerted him to the human's approach, but he refused to look up. Tetsuseiga on his crossed legs, he gazed at the sheath that covered the dangerous sword. His hair fell like a curtain around him and kept the outside world away.  
Thoughts whirled, reminded him of the times he had been a demon.  
Inuyasha chased them away.  
"Inuyasha?"  
The gentle voice made him look up against his will and his eyes met the dark gaze of his companion. Violet eyes, such a strange color. The narrow face with its defined lines, so smooth and unmarked by the hardships of his young life. The small, golden earrings… Inuyasha longed to explore them, run his claws over the pierced lobes…  
Miroku's face showed tension, but his expression was still soft, worried… loving.  
Inuyasha swallowed back the need to jump up and leave. He couldn't deal with those emotions on top of his rising fear and anxiety. Dusk was approaching and soon the full moon would rise. He could almost feel it.  
A hand cupped his face, stroked back the heavy hair, and he shivered at the touch, then drew back abruptly. Miroku's touch burned on his skin, reminded him of the still not confronted conflict inside him.  
"You should leave," he managed.  
"I'm staying," was the simply reply. "Because you need me."  
With that Miroku straightened and resumed his position at the mouth of the cave.  
Because he needed him.  
No!  
Inuyasha clenched his teeth. He had never needed anyone. Not his father, not his brother, no friends! With the death of his mother he had sealed all those needs inside – until Kikyou had cracked that seal, until Kagome had widened the opening, and until finally Miroku had slipped inside and… changed something.  
Golden eyes looked at the monk. Inuyasha felt the yearning again; for something he couldn't put into words.  
There was a sudden, sharp pain inside him and he gasped soundlessly, his hand clenching around Tetsuseiga. Then agony really hit him. He had no time to scream, just feel the burning pain of where his hands touched the sword. He flung it away and jumped up, rage building inside of him, ears flattening against his head, longer canines baring. His sensitive nose picked up the smell of the dark woods outside, of the life force at his beg and call, and he felt his own strength multiply.  
It felt so good.  
It was intoxicating.  
And then he picked up on the human scent.  
Fresh and familiar.  
Oh yes, very familiar. He had tasted this human before, remembered the texture of his skin against his hands, claws brushing over the layers of satiny cloth covering fragile skin.  
Fragile. So, so fragile.  
His mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

* * *

Miroku watched the first stars appear and soon the pale orb of the moon was visible against the dark purple sky. Not yet night, but no longer day. The time between both; dusk.  
There was a sudden thunderous roar behind him, followed by a crackle, and Miroku whirled around. His mouth fell open in shock as he discovered Inuyasha making his way across the seals, staggering, stumbling, but coming closer. He shouldn't even be able to move after stepping onto the first ofuda!  
His hair hung into his eyes and his arms were by his side, claws flexing slightly as he came to s top outside the barrier.  
"Inuyasha?" Miroku called, shocked.  
No one had ever broken so many seals and had still walked! He had taken out youkai with just one of them, killing or disabling them! But his friend… Inuyasha was half human! Even when his demon side took over, how could he be stronger than the strongest youkai Miroku had ever fought?  
The hanyou stumbled and stood still, panting. Each breath was a soft hiss.  
"Inuyasha? Are you all right?" Miroku asked, slightly worried.  
"All right? I'm perfectly fine. More than fine. I'm excellent."  
The last was almost growled and when the other turned, Miroku's eyes widened in shock.  
Red demon eyes burned at him, lips were pulled back over the canine teeth, and sharp claws flashed up and toward him. His reaction was one out of instinct. He threw up his arms, brought his staff before him, and tried to fend off the furious creature that had once been Inuyasha. Now it was nothing but a demonic force, a source of anger and evil.  
Claws clashed against his staff and he shuddered under the impact. A second blow bit deep into the flesh of his left forearm and he screamed in pain as deep gouges were torn down to the bone. He went down on his knees, almost instinctively folding up around the injury that bled heavily between the folds of his sleeve.  
Inuyasha chuckled darkly. "Human," he growled. "Weak, despicable human."  
He raised his blood-covered claws, smiling. It was sinister, evil, and Miroku felt sick as the demon began to lick off the red fluid, smacking his lips.  
"But you taste good."  
He couldn't fight him. Inuyasha was too strong and his only weapon was the kazaana. Miroku wouldn't use it, though. Never against friends, even if his friend was currently out to kill him without a shard of remorse.  
"Time for you to die, monk," the demon hissed.  
Through a haze of tears of pain, Miroku saw him approach and he couldn't see anything of Inuyasha in the feral mask, the satisfied smile, the murderous eyes.  
"Inuyasha," he whispered, his right hand closing around his staff. "Sorry."  
And he swung at the demon.  
Inuyasha jumped back, deeper into the cave, laughing. "You think that can stop me, human?"  
"No, but this can…"  
And he started the chant. Closing his eyes, legs folded under him, sitting in the mouth of the cave, Miroku started to whisper the incantations to erect a barrier. For a moment, Inuyasha was frozen, then he jumped, colliding hard with the magical field. Miroku risked a glance, and continued to pour his mental energy into the wall that would keep Inuyasha in the cave and away from the others.  
A howl was his answer and the demon flung himself against the barrier again and again. Miroku ignored it. He knew how strong he was, how long he could withstand a physical attack. Almost absent-mindedly he wrapped the tatters of his sleeve around the deep, serious wounds that leaked past every bandage, then he shut out the real world.  
He cut himself off from his body, from the pain, from the exhaustion that would soon come.  
And he redirected his energies into the barrier –  
\-- which started to vibrate under the attack.

* * *

Inuyasha as a half-demon was an impressive opponent. He was strong, fast, resilient and a good fighter. His claws were dangerous, as was his sword, but as long as he was the half-demon, he was still in control. There was no killing frenzy, no blood lust, there was only the anger and the heat of the battle. He could tell friend from foe.  
As a full demon, there was little left of the man Miroku had fallen in love with. There was the silvery white hair, the pointed dog-ears on the top of his head, but except for that, nothing reminded of Inuyasha. This was a demon now, a creature of evil, of destructive powers and the need to slay. It was a thing in battle rage, hunting for blood, going for the kill. Red eyes shone out of a feral face, long fangs gleamed from under pulled back lips, and the claws were deadly tools.  
Miroku had felt them bite into his flesh, cut through muscles and tendons to the bone. They had severed blood vessels and he was losing a lot of the vital fluid, but right now it was the least of his concerns.  
Wincing under a new barrage of attacks, he concentrated on upholding his barrier. He had erected such magical shields before, had held them for hours, sometimes for more than a day, but never against such a ceaseless attack, never while he was weakening physically. Hunger and thirst wouldn't be a problem; blood loss and pain were.  
A howl echoed through the cave and Inuyasha threw curses at him, foul names, taunted and insulted him, but the monk let it all cascade off him. The outside didn't exist, only the shields mattered. His mental barriers reverberated under the onslaught and the pain in his head was close to the one in his arm. It was a migraine of epic proportions, but pain was nothing that mattered.  
What did matter was keeping Inuyasha in the cave as long as the full moon was in the sky. As the moon set, the curse would lift and Inuyasha would be his old self again. Until then he would keep the others safe, would keep Inuyasha safe. Sango would gladly kill the demon, or another creature might be stronger and do the same. He wouldn't risk it. He was Inuyasha's protection.  
Perhaps at the cost of his own life.  
He was vulnerable. There was no one to guard his back. No Sango, no Kagome, no one… Should a demon or other creature pass by and decide to take a bite out of him, he was easy prey. His senses were turned inward, to the barrier.  
The raging continued.  
Miroku grimaced slightly as the next attack seemed to cut through him, into him, slice his soul apart with his mind. The moon was still in the sky. It was hours till dawn.  
I won't let you hurt yourself, Inuyasha, he thought. Never.

* * *

The full moon rose to its highest point this night, then began its descent once more. A few clouds dotted the night sky, passing over the yellow-white moon.  
As the moon phase neared its final stage, the barriers around the mouth of the cave began to weaken. The demon trapped inside howled as the first holes appeared, clawed hands lashing for the figure sitting just inside the cave. Miroku showed no sign of hearing the howls or the promises of a slow and painful death, he didn't listen to the ugly names Inuyasha still called him. He might be sleeping, meditating, and except for the deathly pallor and the soaked left sleeve he looked almost peaceful.  
And then the barrier broke.  
The demon screamed its victory, clawed hands curled for slashing into the fragile human form. Miroku was defenseless, completely exhausted, and when those deep violet eyes opened, they didn't seem to take in much. A sad sigh escaped the white lips, then the monk crumbled in on himself.  
And the moon finally set.

*

He didn't know where he was or how he had come here. He didn't know why he was standing in the mouth of a cave, at the edge of the forest they had traveled through the last few days. He didn't know…  
\-- why Miroku lay at his feet.  
"Miroku?"  
Blood. He smelled blood. Sharp, metallic, fresh… a lot of it. Coming from the unconscious monk.  
"Miroku!"  
And from his own hands…  
Inuyasha sank to his knees and rolled the slender man onto his back, then almost jumped back. The dark purple kimono was literally soaked in blood. The left sleeve was shredded, haphazardly bound together to try and stem the blood flow, and it was caked with the vital fluid. Miroku's face was ashen, his eyes closed, and there was barely a pulse visible at the slender neck. His breathing was labored and each breath sounded like it could be the last; weaker and weaker.  
"No…" Inuyasha whispered. "No…"  
Trembling fingers tried to determine the seriousness of the wound. As he lifted what he could of the crusted and sticky sleeve, his stomach turned into a knot of foreboding knowledge – until it clenched in realization. Deep gouges had torn the flesh, right down to the bone, and he knew what could do such terrible harm.  
Demon claws.  
His claws.  
Blood was clinging to them and it didn't come from touching the injury.  
"No… nonono!!" he screamed the last word, shaking his head in denial.  
He couldn't have…. He hadn't…!  
But Miroku bore the evidence of his demon side, his unleashed fury and evil.  
Shaking with fear and horror, he quickly picked up the other man and looked around. He needed help. A healer. Anyone with medical knowledge, with healing powers.  
Inuyasha bit his lower lip, then remembered the village they had come through days ago. There had been a healer, an old woman who had looked so strangely at him. He needed her help and he would do anything, anything at all, to get it.

*

His strength was waning. The weight of Miroku felt like it had increased a tenfold. Blood clung to his clothes, was the only smell lodged in his nose. Inuyasha gathered his last energy reserves and cleared the final line of trees, standing in front of the small village they had passed through. It consisted of five houses and there were mainly women and children, with two men, as well as the old woman. Miroku had blessed their small shrine, a sad excuse for a real one, and they had given them food.  
Now they stood staring at him, the children hiding behind their mothers, and the men looked warily at him. Inuyasha made his way to the house of the healer woman, then stopped, muscles quivering. He felt blood run over his hands, heard every raspy breath from the man in his arms.  
The old woman stood on the porch of her home, the crinkled features neutral, the eyes taking in the half-demon and his precious cargo, and Inuyasha gathered everything inside him to speak the next words as the world started to white-out at the edge of his vision.  
"Please, help him…"  
The sharp eyes met his yellow ones. "What is it to you?" she asked, the voice strong.  
Inuyasha licked his lips. "Everything," he whispered. "Whatever you demand, I'll do it. Please."  
His legs quivered more, but he hung on to the limp body, willed life into the soul that had held out against a demonic attack. He wouldn't disgrace himself by collapsing in front of this woman.  
The woman healer gazed silently at him, then she nodded at the two men who had kept silent guard behind the new-arrival. Inuyasha moved back as they came closer, crouching a little, feeling his body tremble more. No one would take Miroku from him. No one! A warning growl left his lips and his ears lay back.  
The healer chuckled. "Still fight left in you, young one?"  
He glared at her, his back now to one of the wooden posts of the porch. He was glad for the support, but he couldn't fight anyone with the unconscious body in his arms, and Inuyasha wouldn't put him down. Miroku's life depended on him.  
"Bring him inside so I can look at his wounds."  
Carefully, keeping an eye on the two men, he followed the invitation, stepping through the entrance into the hut, the precious cargo in his arms heavier and heavier.  
The healer pointed at a mat on the floor. "Put him there."  
Inuyasha knelt down, arms shaking as he laid Miroku onto the clean mattress. His vision had started to blur and his trembling grew worse. Those sharp eyes looked at him again and suddenly the feature softened slightly.  
"You are safe," the healer whispered. "You can let go now. I will help him."  
As if those words had flipped a coin inside him, Inuyasha felt the world darken and he slid into unconsciousness.

* * *

The world snapped back into place from one second to the next. There was no phase of disorientation, no slow waking-up, just the sudden awareness of everything around him. A hard floor underneath him, covered by a mat, the sharp smell of herbs mixed with old blood and new, interlaced with pain, and the air was heavy with a tangy smell that he had never sensed anywhere before.  
Yellow eyes snapped open and he sat up abruptly. His body protested the moves as priory exhausted muscles were just coming back into action, coiling, ready to spring.  
Inuyasha gazed around the hut he was in, noted the fire dancing merrily in the fireplace, the assorted pots and cups everywhere on the floor, and his nose crinkled as the strange, tangy smell intensified.  
A voice murmured softly and he caught movement, his head snapping around. It was the healer whose name he still didn't know. She was bent over the still form of Miroku, her fingers smearing something over his left arm. Inuyasha's ears lay back flat against his head, he briefly bared his teeth, and his claws wanted to dig into the hardwood floor – which was preferable to digging them into this woman.  
\-- who dared to touch Miroku.  
He froze, blinked at the thoughts and emotions rising unbidden inside him, and forced himself to relax.  
She was helping his friend; no need to be… what? Angry? No, it was something else. Watching the wrinkled hands glide over the smooth skin suffused him with… jealously?  
Inuyasha bit down hard on that emotion and pushed it away, but his eyes were drawn to the free expanse of smooth, muscular chest, the slender neck, then they traveled down what could be seen of the flat stomach.  
Suddenly the healer turned and looked at him.  
"This is your doing?" she asked without a greeting.  
Inuyasha couldn't meet her eyes, as much as he felt the defiance rise inside him. Those four words had shattered what emotions had risen inside him and had brought back the events of the last night with a clarity he had hoped to never achieve. He might not be able to remember every detail, but he remembered enough, especially the blood rage, the desire to gouge and kill and dismember.  
He just stared at the floor, his long hair almost acting like a veil around him as he nodded slowly.  
"You injured him gravely, hanyou."  
As if he didn't know it! His clothes were still flecked with blood, it clung to his hands and claws, to his very skin. He could taste it, smell it… feel it everywhere. The blood of the one person he had let closer than anyone ever before.  
He just nodded again.  
"His life force is weak. He lost a lot of blood. The healing powers can close the wounds, but there will be marks. Wounds inflicted by demons always leave marks."  
Inuyasha swallowed heavily.  
"As they left marks on you."  
He raised his head, staring at the old healer. "I wasn't injured," he whispered, voice rough and shaky.  
"Oh yes, you were, Inuyasha. Your wounds might not be physical, they might not be on the outside, but they are there. And they will leave scars, like there will be scars on Miroku's skin."  
How did she know his name? They had never talked; she hadn't been there when Miroku had blessed their shrine. The woman had kept back, just watching.  
He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again, his eyes drawn involuntarily to the thickly bandaged limb. His gaze traveled up the lithe, muscular body, then averted as he arrived at the pale, almost gray face.  
He had to go.  
"You are part of the healing process, Inuyasha. You must stay."  
He shook his head. "I inflicted these injuries."  
"And you will heal them." The healer rose and opened the door. "You will not leave. This place is barred from demonic intrusion. No demonic blood shall enter or leave until the healing process is over."  
And with that the door was pulled shut, closing him and Miroku in. Inuyasha stared at the door, then felt anger rise briefly. He growled and walked toward the door, only to be repelled. Surprise shot through him and he tried it again, with the same result.  
He was locked in.  
With Miroku.  
No demonic blood shall enter or leave.  
"Wonderful," he muttered and sank to the ground again.  
His eyes strayed to Miroku. He gazed at the still form for a long time, then almost hesitantly came closer until he crouched next to him.  
Hair hung into the smooth forehead and Inuyasha reached out to comb it back, then stopped.  
His claws  
Claws.  
Claws that had injured Miroku.  
Inuyasha shuddered and pulled back his hand, clutching it with his other.  
He had hurt Miroku with those claws.  
There was still blood on them, on his clothes… and he almost ripped the red kimono off himself. Dressed in his undergarments he sank to the ground, shivering – but it wasn't because of any physical cold.

* * *

His body hurt; his mind hurt.  
Fragments of memories came back, stabbing at his injured mind and soul, reminding him of what had happened.  
Inuyasha. No – the demon. The barrier.  
Something poked and stabbed and he fought not to fight against the pain.  
There was a haze about him he couldn't push free of.  
He was so tired...  
Terrible wounds in his arm, blood leaking with every heartbeat. He was dying, and still he upheld the barrier.  
Protect him.  
He was spinning, weightless and formless, slipping from his ties.  
The burning sharpness in his arm was replaced with numbness, silence descending.  
A soft voice reached his ears, murmuring what sounded like incantations.  
And he slipped into the darkness again.

* * *

Inuyasha looked down at the form of his friend – a friend he had slept with, a little voice in his head whispered, a friend he would have killed in his demonic rage without even so much as blinking. He shuddered when he thought about that full moon night when he had fought against Miroku’s barrier in a blind fury, infuriated even further by the scent of fresh blood, blood he had spilled. Miroku had kept his barrier up despite his severe injury, had kept the enraged demon at bay so he wouldn’t hurt anybody else, not his friends and not even himself, and it could have cost him his life easily.  
Miroku started to tremble, freezing because of the amount of blood loss. Inuyasha reached for the blanket to tuck it closer around the lithe body, a body he had gotten to know well in the past few months – but never touched, not really. Sure, he had taken his pleasure from the other man, had given some in return, but not … really. He had stroked the monk into completion, sure, but he hadn’t been gentle. Not brutal either, but never tender.  
He had never kissed Miroku.  
Or held him afterwards. Nor allowed the other man to hold him, though… Inuyasha closed his eyes when the thought hit – he had wanted to. The hanyou groaned inwardly as he realized, maybe for the first time, what he had done to Miroku. How he had treated a man who had always been honest to him and open. He had used Miroku’s body and had treated his friend like a saseko, a whore. But he hadn’t even bothered to offer something in return. Remorse welled up in him, and he froze. Why by the seven hells did he care what a ningen felt? Why did he care for a mere human at all?  
Because throughout the time he had traveled with Kagome, Sango, Shippo and Miroku he had learned to care. He worried, he had formed friendships, he had begun to feel more than just annoyed acceptance of their daily presence. He had expected to feel more for Kagome, but instead… something had happened.  
Miroku had happened. The conniving monk had wormed his way into Inuyasha's mind, body and soul. He had come in under the radar, completely unexpected, and the hanyou had had no defense against him. Inuyasha looked at the pale, slightly sweaty face. So handsome, so gentle, so…  
He swallowed hard.  
Miroku still shivered and suddenly stirred, violet eyes blinking open slowly, still unfocused, and the hanyou froze.  
“Inuyasha?”  
“Yes.”  
“’m cold… So cold…“  
“I’ll place your blankets a little closer to the fireplace. That should help.”  
Inuyasha didn’t need much strength to pull the blankets with Miroku on them as close to the fire as he dared without risking them to ignite and injuring Miroku even further. He was about to turn away when suddenly Miroku’s hand shot forward, fingers closing around his wrist. Hazy, violet eyes focused on him for a second, and Inuyasha felt himself freeze, rooted to the spot by the depths he saw in them, emotions Miroku usually seemed to hide very well, but now, injured and weak …  
“Please … “  
It wasn’t more than a whisper but it had a much stronger effect on him than a yelled ‘sit’ from Kagome. Miroku had closed his eyes again and seemed to slide back into a much needed sleep, but his fingers were still cold around Inuyasha’s wrist, and he wouldn’t let go, so…  
Inuyasha sighed and carefully lifted the blankets, slipping under them as cautiously as he could not to disturb the sick man. He froze when he felt Miroku sigh in so much contentment he had never heard from the monk before, pulling him even closer, placing the hanyou's hand on his naked stomach. The feeling of the soft skin under his fingers made Inuyasha groan again when some part of him announced an increasing interest in intensifying that touch – gods, not now of all times! But when he tried to pull back a little Miroku stirred, sliding deeper into his arms and sighed.  
“’tis ‘kay, Inuyasha. That’s normal … “  
Okay? It was okay?!  
No, it wasn't!  
Inuyasha felt a growl rise, but he swallowed it. Miroku was weak, injured, almost asleep again, and all the half-demon felt was… lust?  
"It's a natural reaction," Miroku whispered, smiling a little as he looked at Inuyasha through half-lidded eyes. "Normal."  
And why did he sound so matter-of-fact about it? Like they were discussing the flow of the river or the cycle of the seasons. Inuyasha gazed down at the man, confused and amazed in one. The hand holding his rubbed a thumb over the back of his hand. He felt the prayer beads against his skin, each and every single one. He could sense the softness of the cloth covering the kazaana, and the even softer, warm skin of the vulnerable stomach. His claws rested against that skin…  
So easy to harm. To tear apart.  
He tensed and tried to pull away again, but he couldn't. At least not while Miroku held on to him. Not without harming him.  
"Stay, please," Miroku almost pleaded, voice trailing off as he neared sleep.  
Stay.  
Inuyasha fought with himself, then finally relaxed against the other's body, pillowing his head on the slender shoulder. He saw the slight smile again, heard the soft breaths as Miroku fell asleep, and somehow, magically, he followed him there.

* * *

He woke up to a situation he had hoped he could circumvent. His body wrapped around the healing one of the monk, one leg thrown over Miroku's, Inuyasha became uncomfortably aware of the straining hardness simultaneously pressed against it. Holding his breath he tried to disentangle himself from the other body, but he had little luck.  
Dark violet eyes opened and Miroku suddenly smiled. Inuyasha couldn't but hold that gaze, felt emotions well up inside of him he didn't really want to acknowledge. Time seemed to have no meaning as they looked at each other, and without conscious thought he bent forward, bringing their lips together, the kiss full of tender affection. At the contact, his brain kicked back in again, but it was already too late. It was like a shock, feeling those pliable lips respond to the contact, and his own desires rose up several notches. The intimate contact shot fire through him, made him want to melt against his companion, made him want to… do a lot of things. His hips bucked involuntarily and he groaned softly.  
Inuyasha pulled back, breathing hard, staring at the pale face, feeling the hammering of his own heart. The spell was dissolving but for the moment, it was the most intoxicating feeling he had ever experienced. His face flushed and he drew back further, wide-eyed, shaking his head.  
"Inuyasha," Miroku murmured.  
His right hand rubbed up one thigh toward where his morning hardness was straining for release, and Inuyasha gave a strangled gasp, moving away.  
"No!"  
How could Miroku, in his weak state, think about pleasuring him? How could he believe Inuyasha expected it? How?!  
Because you never showed him he was worth anything more than a toy, a nasty voice whispered inside of him. You used him like a whore, but you never even paid him for his services. What else do you think he believes he has to do now?  
Wide, violet eyes gazed at him, surprise registering deep inside.  
"No?" Miroku echoed, confused.  
"I don't need you!" Inuyasha spat, hunkering down, clawed hands digging into the floor. "I don't!"  
And those eyes shuttered. "I see," was the only reply.

So simple, Miroku thought as he looked at the half-demon. Just one word and it was all over before it had even begun. He had thought they were going somewhere, approaching an understanding of what was between them, but now all of that had been shattered.  
He had been a tool, he realized. More than he would have believed. Now he had been rejected as even that.  
Closing his eyes he sighed silently. He was still tired, but no longer as hazy and exhausted as the day before. His left arm felt heavy, but there was little pain. Just an uncomfortable feeling of soreness. From the smell of the place, he was in a healer's home.  
"I'm sorry."  
The words reached his ears and he turned his head, surprised. Inuyasha? Apologizing. He knew for a fact that the half-demon had a problem with confessing to a weakness, to a wrong he had done, and apologizing wasn't his strongest trait. Actually, he had messed up in that department with Kagome several times.  
"Don't be. It's okay," the monk answered.  
No need to embarrass him any further. It was truly over. A short affair to take the edge off. Well, if he had been of service, good. At least he had been able to touch and feel the hands of the hanyou on him, even if it hadn't been more than a fleeting contact.  
Golden eyes snapped up, glaring at him. "Okay?" Inuyasha growled. "Okay?!"  
"It was a way of release, Inuyasha. I can accept that," Miroku answered calmly.  
And he could.  
Inuyasha stared at him, incredulous. "You like to be used?" he demanded.  
Miroku remained silent.  
"I used you!" Inuyasha raged. "Your body! Like a whore! And you let me! Why?"  
He closed his eyes briefly, then met the enraged gaze. "Because we proceeded at a pace you were comfortable with."  
"This is about you, too!"  
He blinked. Of course it had been about him, too, but why did it sound like Inuyasha…?  
"I got my own pleasure from it," Miroku told him.  
Inuyasha came closer, shaking his head. "No. You got nothing but a fuck. You touched me, I never touched you in return."  
"Inuyasha… please. Leave it be. It's over and we should let it rest."  
Those golden eyes widened. "Over?" It came out as almost a gasp. "No!"  
Now he was even more confused. "You… you don't want it to be?"  
"No!" came the blurted denial. "Why did you think… I mean… because I didn't let you bring me to release just now?!"  
A nod.  
"You're injured!" Inuyasha argued, ears twitching in obvious emotional upheaval.  
"You needed me."  
That drew a sharp intake of breath. "I'd never use you like this," Inuyasha whispered, then winced. "But I have."  
Miroku pushed himself up, almost falling back as his body, still weak from blood loss, trembled. At least he managed to sit up without embarrassing himself.  
"Inuyasha," he called softly, holding out a hand.  
The hanyou regarded him with a mixture of fear and need, drawn to his injury but also afraid to hurt him again.  
"Inuyasha," he repeated.

The voice was smooth like honey, intoxicating, deep and so full of need. And those eyes… Had he ever noticed their depths? How many emotions they held?  
Miroku cupped one smooth cheek and tugged him even closer. There was no resistance as their lips met and the dark-haired man flicked his tongue over them, drawing a wide-eyed gasp. And then that tongue touched his mouth again, sliding inside, and he almost automatically met it with his. A hand carded into his hair, holding him close, caressing him. Inuyasha sank forward a little, his own arms coming around the slender form, felt the tremors of muscles that still needed to rest, and he pulled Miroku closer – just to hold him.  
They separated and their foreheads rested against each other, Miroku breathing harder than before. Inuyasha felt the unabated hardness between his legs burn with need, but he tried to push it away. He couldn't use his lover like this.  
Miroku's right hand glided over his crotch again.  
"No," Inuyasha protested softly.  
"You're not using me," the monk said tenderly. "I'm willing to help you. You can make it up to me later." There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.  
Inuyasha snorted, amusement replacing the fear, then he groaned as the beads-wrapped hand rubbed over his arousal, the cloth of his underwear making the contact even more erotic.  
It didn't take much. He was coiled so tightly, the moment Miroku's hand slipped inside and touched him, massaging him to completion, he cried out in release.  
They both sank down onto the floor, Miroku cradling him against his chest, stroking over the white hair in a soothing pattern. Fingers toyed with his ears, exploring their silky fur, and he smiled a little, enjoying the sensation. Inuyasha held on to the slender form, inhaling the scent of the naked skin, enjoying the texture of it under his hands. He knew he had to clean himself, wash the stained clothing that still reeked of blood and now of his release, but all he managed was to shed the undergarments and throw them on the kimono pile near the door.  
Naked, pressed against his lover, Inuyasha let out a content sigh. The blanket covered them like a protective cocoon, and just listening the rhythm of Miroku's heart lulled him into relaxation.

* * *

The door opening drew him out of his slumber, instantly alert, ears pricked and he bared his teeth as the healer entered the room. Curled around Miroku, Inuyasha tensed, claws at the ready, but the hard eyes just met his angry gaze calmly. Naked, vulnerable, needing to protect his lover, Inuyasha waited for what was to come.  
"It has begun," the old woman just said and placed a clay pot on the low table. "You will need to eat. Both of you."  
He growled softly as she came closer, still not moving. It was bad enough that she saw him without clothes; he wouldn't shame himself further by exposing himself completely.  
The healer smiled slightly. "I'm not here to harm or judge, hanyou. Let me see to his wounds."  
Inuyasha nodded briskly, golden eyes fixed on every move she made. The healer unwrapped the bandages and for the first time he saw the damage he had done. He moved back instinctively from the prominent scarring, hissing, but the need to stay with Miroku made him freeze.  
His lover stirred slightly and dark eyes cracked open. Miroku gazed at him, then turned his head to look at the woman treating his arm, smearing some kind of herbal salve on the healing scars.  
"Thank you," he whispered.  
Her gaze was suddenly very soft and she nodded once. Miroku sighed and turned his eyes back to Inuyasha, smiling. The fingers of his right hand tightened on the hand he was holding, still lying on his stomach. No words were lost and Inuyasha was drawn between watching the woman and just looking at the injured man.  
Bandages were wrapped around the angry marks, hiding them from his guilty eyes.  
"The flesh is healing, the skin will bear the marks," the woman said calmly. "You will be sore for a while, Miroku," she addressed the prone man. "Sleep, rest, and heal. Time is of no meaning here."  
With that she rose and left, picking up the soiled clothes next to the door. Inuyasha made a noise of protest but her gaze stopped him.  
"I will clean those for you. You'll get them back, hanyou, don't worry."  
And with it she was gone.

* * *

Time passed. It seemed like hours turned into days, but to Inuyasha each moment with his lover was cherished. The house of the healer was larger than it had first appeared. There wasn't just this one room where Miroku spent the first three days more asleep than awake. There was a bathing chamber, a small side room, and what seemed like a shrine to a god or goddess Inuyasha didn't know.  
They used the bathing room daily. At first it had been a precarious trip for the still weak Miroku to walk into the next room, but determination and stubbornness made up for the weakened muscles. Bathing and cleaning themselves was non-erotic in that time. It was just another task and while Inuyasha enjoyed touching his lover, there were no thoughts of doing anything but getting rid of the sweat and grime.  
That changed slowly after Miroku finally fell into a normal rhythm of eating and sleeping. The healer, whose name was Aiko as she had told them when Miroku had asked, paid them daily visits, checking on the scarred arm, going through exercises with her patient to keep the scars from stiffening. Each time the unwrapped arm was in plain sight, guilt rose like a tidal wave inside the young hanyou.  
His claws.  
His doing.  
And dark eyes always met his, the soft expression chasing away the darker thoughts. Miroku didn't blame him.  
They had talked little about his change and the attack; it had happened and they both had survived.  
"Our friends will be worried about us," Miroku remarked as Aiko moved his wrist gently, and he grimaced briefly at the pain it elicited.  
"Time is of no meaning to you," was the calm reply.  
"You said so already," Inuyasha grumbled.  
The sharp eyes pinned him and almost automatically his ears flattened. A low growl rumbled in his chest. Miroku's right hand closed around his wrist and their eyes met. No words passed, but Inuyasha stood down, though he didn't relax out of his crouched stance.  
"What do you mean by this?" Miroku asked the healer matter-of-factly without letting go of the hanyou.  
"You live in another time," the woman replied. "For as long as it takes, you will be here."  
Inuyasha gaped, but Miroku just nodded.  
"I understand and we have to thank you."  
She inclined her head, accepting the words. "You need to heal. You will be able to leave this place tomorrow, but not the village."  
Miroku flexed the still lightly bandaged hand, wincing briefly as scarred flesh pulled at smooth skin. Aiko rose and made her usual, silent exit, the door sealing them in again.  
"She trapped us in a spell," Inuyasha snarled. "We're prisoners in their village!"  
"No, she gave us a chance."  
Miroku released the captured wrist and rose slowly, still not as limber as he used to be.  
"Let's eat."  
Inuyasha watched him walk over to the table and lower himself onto the mat, right hand reaching for the pot the old woman had brought. He could smell the food from here and he knew it would be good. All her dishes had been so far.  
He joined the monk, silently watching how he struggled to use his left hand, noticing the grimace of pain when the plate became too heavy for the healing muscles.  
His doing.  
His fault.  
"Inuyasha," came the gentle whisper.  
He met the violet eyes.  
"Eat."  
And he did.

* * *

In the following days, the two men left the hut and started to explore their new home. Miroku wasn't really surprised to discover time stones placed in the fields around the village. He hadn't seen them when they had first passed through, but now they were no longer hidden. Each stone was a marker, a barrier for them, keeping time inside different from the pace of time outside.  
The people seemed to be indifferent to the changes brought upon them by Aiko. Miroku suspected she was far more than a healer anyway. Her spiritual powers surpassed that of a mere miko, too.  
Inuyasha had started to take their imprisonment better with each passing day. At first he had been grumpy and rude, insulting whoever said a wrong word or even looked at him the wrong way. By now he was befriending the curious children, who had never seen a hanyou like him, and Miroku watched it with a faint smile on his lips.  
Their own relationship was taking larger steps now. There were moments spent together somewhere in the fields, just sitting with each other, arms wrapped around the other, enjoying the closeness. Miroku savored them. His own strength was slowly returning, but it took time.  
Time, which they had.

The bathing room was half the size of the main chamber that they slept and ate in. There was a large tub, big enough for two, and it could be easily filled with hot water. The system was ingenious and Miroku had to give it to the old woman – it worked. There were hot springs close by and the hot water would flow down a large bamboo pipe into the tub. A simple wooden lock allowed to regulate the amount of water coming in.  
Currently, the tub was full and Miroku relaxed back into the warmth, letting it suffuse his muscles, turn them into jelly. He had unwrapped his injury to keep the bandages from getting wet. It was enough that those covering his kazaana would be dripping later on. Closing his eyes, he breathed in slowly, exhaling just the like.  
A sound alerted him to the approach of his companion and violet eyes cracked open, watching the hanyou enter the bathing room. Clothes slid carelessly to the ground as Inuyasha shed his simple, beige kimono. His fire rat one was still being cleaned by the healer – or whatever. Miroku himself was wearing a simple black version of his own wear. His clothes were probably shredded and beyond repair.  
Lithe steps led his silver-haired lover to the edge of the tub and he descended the few steps to the bottom with the same grace he did everything else. No word was spoken as amber eyes regarded him, then fell on his injury.  
Miroku had seen the guilt in those beloved depths several times since he had been coherent enough to be aware of his surroundings, and each time he wished he could make the scars disappear. As it was, they would stay as a reminder.  
Inuyasha reached out, clawed finger touching his left hand, and he held still, letting the hanyou explore the healing flesh. Tender fingers stroked over the angry, red scars, followed their jagged path over his wrist, forearm and to the elbow. Miroku touched him with his wrapped hand, holding the pained gaze. Then he entwined their hands, his left with Inuyasha's right, pulling him close.  
Lips met in an almost desperate kiss. Inuyasha sank against him, straddling his lap. The hanyou trailed kisses over his lips, up the jaw line and finally tongued the two earrings, drawing a startled gasp from Miroku. Teeth tugged briefly at the tiny pieces of metal, as clawed fingers threaded into his hair, unbound and open, falling in wet strands to his shoulders. Then the silver head buried against him once more.  
"Forgive me," he whispered.  
"There's nothing to forgive."  
He played with one pointed ear as Inuyasha rested his head against his chest. They stayed like this until the water was almost too cold for Miroku's liking. He started to shiver and Inuyasha pulled back. Amber eyes regarded him.  
"You need to keep warm," he said softly and rose, holding out his hand.

Inuyasha helped his lover down onto the mattress. Miroku's dark hair was still damp, his skin flushed with warmth from their bath and maybe something else.  
He felt so many emotions, all bottled up inside of him, all seeking an outlet. He cupped the still too pale face, gazing into eyes that were open and so easily readable now. No masks, no shields, no pretense. Here, in this hut, he was looking at the real Miroku. The man who held so many emotions as well.  
Mate, he thought, startling himself.  
His mate. A human. A very lethal human, but a human nonetheless. Fragile and weak…  
No!  
Inuyasha clamped down on those thoughts. Miroku was far from weak or fragile. He was a warrior.  
He bent down and kissed the warm lips, delighting in their response. They lay down together, snuggling close to the fire, until Miroku dozed off. Inuyasha just sat there, cross-legged, guarding and watching.

* * *

Their 'imprisonment' became a time of discovery and growing understanding on Inuyasha's part. Not just on a sexual side, where he explored his lover's body in a way he had never dreamed of before, but also on a personal relationship base. There were so many layers to each man's personality and now they had the time and the peace to explore them all. There was no enemy to fight, no journey to continue, no secret to keep from their friends. In here, it was just them.  
And, of course, the healer. Aiko never lost a word about their closeness, but she seemed to encourage it. She knew and accepted, which was more than Inuyasha had ever hoped to find in a human. Normally humans were openly wary and hostile of those who chose a youkai or hanyou lover.  
Inuyasha stole a glance at the slender figure standing near the fire, dressed in only a pair of pants, bare footed, his left arm cradled against his bare stomach and chest. He liked the sight of the bare flesh, usually hidden under the black and purple kimono. In here, there were no barriers, no offended eyes. It was just them and how they were comfortable showing themselves.  
Miroku had eaten more than he had expected today and the healer was rather pleased with him, though she had refused to lift the barrier around the hut. Inuyasha was still unable to leave and Miroku made no moves to pass through the shield that would allow only humans through.  
Joining his lover at the fire, Inuyasha met the deep, violet eyes, black in the shadows of the flames, and clawed fingers cupped one pale cheek without thinking. Miroku leaned into the caress, smiling. Their lips met briefly and Inuyasha slid an arm around the narrow waist, felt the heavier weight of the bound arm coming to rest against his own bareness. He was vulnerable here, without his fire rat kimono, relying on the truth of the barrier, that it would keep his enemies out, but Miroku was even more at anyone's mercy. He might be able to sit and stand, but he was a far cry from ready for any kind of battle. Inuyasha was hard in taking punishment. He had battled the worst and while he had bled and carried deep wounds or broken bones, a human would have been died. He was a hanyou, a very strong one, and even without the protection of the kimono he could fight whatever came his way.  
A soft moan echoed in the silent room and Inuyasha smiled against Miroku's lips. His lover looked at him, right hand buried in the heavy locks of silvery hair, fingertips gently grazing his sensitive ears. Inuyasha shivered slightly at the tingling sensation, letting his hands trail down the muscular back, cupping the firm butt cheeks, pulling him even closer. He knew Miroku wasn't up to any kind of coupling, but he wanted his nearness, needed him to be so close, feel his every heartbeat and breath, every pulse of life. Burying his head against the slender neck, he inhaled the scent of the healing man, now free of blood and pain, only hampered by the soreness in his left arm.  
Inuyasha nibbled slightly at the fragile skin, grazing it with his canines, and it drew a soft gasp. He bit lightly and the hand in his hair clenched briefly.  
"Inuyasha," Miroku moaned.  
He did it again, drawing a sharper reply. Raising his head, golden eyes glowing, the half-demon smiled as he read the arousal in his lover's eyes and scent. He pulled him onto the mat with him, pushed him onto his back, running a feather-light caress over the bandages as he raised the arm to kiss the unbound fingers. Miroku's eyes widened at the sensuous contact, then closed as Inuyasha kissed his lips, demanding entry with his tongue. Within this 'prison' they had made up for months of no kissing, no tender contact, and Inuyasha was determined to let his lover feel what he felt, what he experienced. He might not be good with words and expressing himself, but there were other ways.  
Miroku relaxed under his ministrations as sharp claws were used to tease and torment, never breaking the skin, never coming close to being dangerous, and he cried out as sensitive nipples were attended thoroughly. His lover’s skin felt soft and warm under his palm and he splayed his fingers, stroking over warm flesh, running his fingertips over a hardening nipple. Miroku’s breathing hitched and a whiff of increasing arousal reached the hanyou’s sensitive nose. Watching his lover he repeated the caress, more firmly this time, remembering only too well how it had felt for him when Miroku had teased him there. He stroked up and down the beautiful body. Miroku groaned and shifted under his light touch, pushing and seeking a firmer one.  
Inuyasha smiled and undid the bindings of the pants, freeing Miroku's hardness, trailing soft patterns against the arousal, taking his time. He wanted to make it good for Miroku, wanted to make him feel cherished – and he wanted to watch, wanted to see what effect his caresses would have on the other man. Miroku hat touched him so often in the past, had given him pleasure, and it was time to give some of it back, no skip that – lots of it. A moan turned into a whimper as he used what he had learned from his lover, as he applied not only his hands but also his mouth, ever-so-careful of his canines. The additional stimulation seemed to have an effect, though.  
Miroku, who to his utter surprise had turned out to be very vocal and passionate, gave a cry of need, bucking into the hot, wet mouth. Inuyasha pushed the erratically moving hips firmly onto the ground.  
"Koishii, please," came the hoarse pleading.  
Inuyasha started at the unexpected endearment. He pulled back, suddenly insecure, but Miroku just smiled at him, dark eyes whirling with need, and the hanyou was lost. He couldn’t help himself – he bent down and brushed his lips over Miroku’s before returning to his previous task, smiling when he heard Miroku moan almost desperately as he licked at his prize, drawing a loud cry once again. Careful of his claws, he teased sensitive areas, drawing lazy patterns around Miroku's opening without entering.  
"Need you," Miroku whispered.  
He wouldn't take him. Not tonight, Inuyasha decided. His lover wasn't up for that kind of exertion, and so he just crawled over his body, pushing his own arousal against Miroku's, eliciting a sweet moan. Kissing the pliable lips, he moved his hips slowly, delighting with the friction. Inuyasha curled one hand over their combined hardness, looked into the beloved eyes, and lost himself in the heady smell of need, sex and lust, of love and belonging.  
Their climax came like a tidal wave.  
Miroku moaned, then gasped. His body arched under him, pushing them closer together.  
"Love you," the dark-haired man whimpered.  
Inuyasha bit back a howl, eyes screwed shut, gasping harshly, and for a moment there was nothing but the rush of blood through his ears, his wildly hammering heart, and the scent of their combined liquids.  
Inuyasha felt a strong hand caress him and he opened his eyes. He lay on top of his lover, head buried into the junction of Miroku's neck and shoulder, still breathing harder than normal. Blunt, human teeth gently bit the dog ear closest to them and Inuyasha started. He raised himself, looking at the man underneath him, seeing nothing but lazy satisfaction. He smiled affectionately and caressed the relaxed face, tracing the handsome features with a light touch. His left ear still tingled with the gentle bite, sending electric shivers through him.  
He cleaned them both with a towel, then snuggled close to Miroku again, sighing contentedly against the warm skin.  
"I love you," he whispered.  
Miroku's eyes widened almost comically, and suddenly Inuyasha froze, realizing what he had said. Miroku pulled his face close, and he looked into those strangely violet eyes which held an unreadable expression at the moment.  
“…koishii… “ he whispered hoarsely.  
The kiss was long and sweet – but to Inuyasha there was a strange undertone of bitterness in it.

* * *

Miroku patiently watched Aiko apply the herbal salve to his scars while Inuyasha sat close by, sharp eyes keeping track of each movement the old woman made.  
"May I ask you something?" Miroku broke the silence.  
Her eyes flicked up, then she nodded.  
"Why did you help us?"  
"I don't turn down those in true need."  
Inuyasha tilted his head but kept his silence.  
"You weren't very… open when we passed through earlier."  
"I don't trust a youkai or hanyou," was the level answer and Inuyasha's ears flattened. "I share that emotion with Tukio, but I don't approve of his methods."  
Miroku stiffened and Inuyasha's claws dug into the ground.  
"You know that old man?" he demanded.  
"Yes, I know him. We grew up together. I left the village to come here with my husband," the healer explained calmly. "He's a powerful priest, but he lost all restraint after a youkai destroyed his face and took his family's lives."  
Miroku paled. "Sesshoumaru?"  
"Yes, the youkai. His hatred of all youkai grew exponentially and he erased them wherever he met one, good and evil alike." Her eyes fell on Inuyasha. "He wanted to erase all traces of their existence, which also meant their children born of human mothers or fathered by humans."  
Inuyasha hissed angrily, coiling again. Miroku reached out and touched the tense hanyou. "Koishii…"  
The word of endearment had a startling effect. Amber eyes snapped to look at him, widening in surprise. The ears twitched upright.  
"I don't approve of it," Aiko repeated. "We are all creatures on the same earth. Good and bad. He has no right to judge without knowing. You, hanyou, are of the youkai's family tree that took his face. That's why he cursed you."  
She tied a loose knot and placed Miroku's arm on his lap.  
"The curse has been lifted. You spilled the blood of your mate and it broke the curse. Otherwise you would have continued to change at every full moon."  
She rose.  
Inuyasha gaped at her. "I'm free of it?"  
"Yes. You are again what you were. Only one moon phase will forever be your curse."  
And then she was gone, leaving a startled Inuyasha behind.

 * * *

Miroku's face was a mask of concentration as he stood in the middle of the field, his staff in his left hand, laboriously going through motions that had been easy and fluent before. The staff was a deadly weapon, could slice into living flesh at his will and do a lot of harm, but right now it looked more like he was learning how to handle it anew.  
Inuyasha leaned against tree, smirking slightly. Miroku looked rather fed-up, frustrated, and somehow it was a far cry from his so assured self he portrayed to the others. So much had been revealed to the hanyou regarding this special human in his life. Like just how human Miroku could be; how much was just a façade.  
The staff clattered to the ground and he couldn't help but grunt in amusement. Violet eyes flared.  
"You keep out of it!"  
"You seem to be no better than a child, monk."  
Yes, it had been his fault. He had inflicted those terrible wounds. He was to blame for the weakened arm and the disfiguring scars, but for just a moment the old Inuyasha had surfaced. The teasing, sarcastic one. Still, it was only a façade. It was an attempt to lighten the mood with no harm intended.  
Miroku's brows dipped and suddenly he whirled around, swinging the staff in a low arc. Inuyasha was too stunned to react as his legs were kicked out under him and he landed flat on his back. Before he had a chance to get up, the weight of the human on him pinned him down. His wrists were grabbed and pushed to the ground left and right of his head.  
Dark eyes laughed at him and Miroku smirked. "You were saying, great hanyou?"  
Inuyasha hissed softly, but instead of aggression and battle rage, there was something else there. Something so much softer, so very emotional…  
Hips moved against his and he felt himself harden almost instantly as Miroku seductively leaned forward, bringing his body in full contact with Inuyasha's. Oh so slowly those familiar lips came nearer his own, then ghosted over his mouth.  
Teasing.  
Teeth nibbling briefly.  
Inuyasha moaned, his hips pushing up, his back arching slightly.  
Lips and teeth traced his jaw line, nipped at the juncture of jaw and neck, drawing a hiss and another buck.  
He was so damn hard, so very much needing and the feather-light touches were driving him crazy. He yearned for a harder touch, for more pressure, and the clothes were in the way. He almost whined as Miroku drew back, then groaned as that needed pressure on his groin returned.  
It would be so easy to flip them around, tear off their clothes, take his lover, but everything had changed between them. Where only weeks ago Inuyasha wouldn't have hesitated to follow up on his thoughts, he now held back, wanted to go with the flow, follow Miroku's lead.  
"What do you want?" a rough voice whispered in his ears.  
He whimpered. He wanted Miroku. He wanted him writhing underneath him, panting, yearning for more, hear his hoarse cries.  
"What do you want?" Miroku repeated, biting one pointed dog-ear gently.  
Inuyasha gasped, eyes flying open, back arching.  
"You," he groaned.  
Amber eyes met violet ones and there was an almost invisible shift in Miroku's body language. The pressure on his wrists lessened, then the grip was gone. Lithely, the slender form slid off him, tugging at his own kimono. Inuyasha looked at him, mouth open, breathing hard as smooth, muscular planes of skin were revealed. He was barely aware of his own, jerky motions to rid himself of his clothes.  
Miroku's helping hands sent sparks through him and suddenly he was pulled forward, tumbling into the hot embrace of his lover. Lips sought his in a deep, soul-searing kiss.  
"You have me, koishii. I'm yours."  
It broke something inside the hanyou, releasing bottled up emotions, and he hungrily took possession of the sinful mouth. He worked himself down the sinewy body, paying attention to the soft spots he had discovered in the time they had been imprisoned together, and listened to Miroku's encouraging whispers, groans and cries. Preparation was a matter of caution due to his claws and barely controlled lust. He wouldn't let himself lose control and harm Miroku. His strength had to be kept in check.  
When he finally slid into that tight heat, he almost came right on the spot. Inuyasha felt his lover writhe and buck under him, moan incoherently, fingers stroking his back and long legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper inside the other man. Miroku’s eyes were almost black and hazy with need and desire, and he panted his name, meeting every slow thrust with a buck of his own.  
“Inuyasha… koishii, please… “  
Inuyasha gave in, buried his hands into Miroku’s hair as he bent down to claim those lips that had given him so much pleasure in the past and that he had learned to appreciate only these past weeks. He let go, swallowed every deep groan and whimper when he took Miroku higher and higher, until the lithe body under him stiffened and arched, fingers digging almost painfully into his back and then Miroku screamed out his name as the climax hit him. Inuyasha groaned at the sight and followed his lover over the edge.  
He almost collapsed on him, riding out the afterglow of their encounter. Eyes closed, Inuyasha felt Miroku’s hands stroke his sweaty back, pull a blanket over their bodies, and nibble gently at his ear.  
“Love you… “ he whispered, and strangely this words touched something inside of Inuyasha, making him shiver.  
Miroku loved him, had said so several times, and he had answered in kind but … to what good?  
Inuyasha clenched his eyes shut against the wave of emotions that was welling up inside him, threatening to flood him, wash him away. Miroku would have to sire a son and, if not successful in fighting Naraku, would be swallowed by his kazaana eventually. Kagome would return to her own epoch because she just didn’t belong in this one, and Sango… Sango would do whatever pleased her, hunt down demons and the kind as long as she would be able to. Shippo would grow into a powerful kitsune and be a full demon one day … and then what? What if they had found the jewel until then?  
What was the jewel to him now? True, if they had it, they might be able to destroy Naraku. Having it was preferable to him getting his paws on the complete Shikon no Tama.  
But a few months ago he had been hell-bent on becoming a full demon with its help. Now all he could think of was the blood on his hands, the rage and feeling of satisfaction of having destroyed living flesh, the electric touch of blood on his lips and tongue, the taste… a sickening recollection that wanted to make him throw up. As a demon he had no control. He had the power and the strength, but no control, like any other demon had. He would get a boost, an energizing rush, and he would simply snap and take what he wanted.  
Turning human was no option either. He experienced the weakness of humanity once a month where he had to hide from his friends and enemies alike. From his friends because he would endanger them, from his enemies because they would take that time to kill him.  
So, as a hanyou, he had the best of both worlds. He had power, though not that of a full demon, and he had control over it. He could still feel… emotions. He could love… and he had Miroku.  
Miroku… Inuyasha lost the battle against his emotions, body trembling with silent sobs. And then he felt a soft questing touch on his face, fingertips wiping the wetness on his cheeks away.

“Inuyasha? Koishii?”  
Miroku felt the body he was holding close shake. He asked again but received no answer. Worried now he stroked the beloved face gently, shocked to find moisture there.  
“Inuyasha? What’s wrong, koishii?”  
“Don’t call me that … “  
“Inuyasha, why? Talk to me … “  
“I can’t.”  
“Why?”  
“ …demons don’t love… “  
Miroku’s eyes widened, but he closed his arms tighter around the weeping form, felt the hot tears streaming down his naked chest.  
No, demons don’t love, he thought, still bewildered by what he had just experienced, mere seconds after being taken – no, after having loved.  
But they don’t cry either.

* * *

The next morning Aiko inspected Miroku's arm and nodded in satisfaction.  
“It is done,” she said, massaging the tender flesh. “You will experience trouble with your movement for a while longer. Use this salve, and train you arm, but don’t overdo it, then you’ll regain your strength. As for you,” her eyes wandered to Inuyasha, and the hanyou frowned. Somehow he didn’t want to hear what she might have to say. “You have begun to heal, hanyou, but you’re still tender. You will scar, and as your friend will be aware of his, you will feel yours. Especially when you put strain on it.”  
“I wasn’t wounded.”  
She shook her head somewhat sadly.  
“Yes, you were, Inuyasha, you just don’t want to see. Hanyou, you know what happens to wounds when they are left untreated for too long. They are a festering sore. And sometimes they have to be burned and cut."  
He lowered his eyes, hands curled into fists.  
The woman looked at Miroku and her eyes softened. "You can leave tomorrow. Use that time."  
He nodded and they watched her leave. Miroku went over to check on the food she had left, sniffing at the freshly baked goods. The aroma was wonderful.  
"Miroku?" Inuyasha asked softly.  
He turned and looked at the hanyou who still crouched on the floor. Amber eyes lifted.  
"Why me?"  
The monk blinked. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. "Come again?"  
"Why did you choose me? I can never give you what a woman could. A child. An heir to continue the quest to kill Naraku. Only a woman can bear your children." Inuyasha lowered his head. "You hit on every woman we met throughout our travels, but you slept with me. Why me?"  
Miroku stood thunder struck. There was so much pain in those words, such insecurity… it hurt him in turn. He had never thought about his past as a reason for Inuyasha to doubt him.  
Kneeling down opposite his lover he reached out and touched one smooth cheek.  
"Inuyasha. Koishii. Love works in mysterious ways." He smiled sadly at the other man. "I was raised to be what you see today – a ladies man, someone only looking for this one goal. I never thought of it as any harm since it was my supposed heritage, the continuation of my blood line. I never thought about what it meant for the child I'd father, Inuyasha, until I met you guys. Until I finally fought against Naraku. I couldn't burden a child with my curse. Maybe my grandfather and my father could, but I can't. I've lived with the death in my hand for twenty years now. I can't curse anyone else with it."  
"If you died… Naraku will have won," Inuyasha whispered.  
"No, he'll never win. Even should I die. But I believe we'll find that son of a bitch and destroy him. That's my goal in life – his death. Not the death of yet unborn child. I've found love. I found it with you. It happened over time and it's still happening. It's a miracle for me and I treasure each moment."  
Inuyasha's eyes strayed to the door and Miroku followed the silent gaze. It was the last barrier between them and their friends. They would return to them, back to reality, so to speak. No more nights lying together, no more tender touches, no open affection. Their friends didn't know and he doubted they were ready for it yet.  
"It'll be okay," he said softly.  
Inuyasha averted his eyes, closing them. "When we leave this place, everything will have changed."  
"Yes. Because we have changed."  
"Enough to last?"  
Miroku froze, stunned. "What do you mean?"  
"Can we go on out there?"  
"Of course!"  
Golden eyes opened and looked at him. "What if your feelings change? What if you meet a woman, Miroku? What if she can give you more than I?"  
"You think I won't be faithful?" he whispered, shocked.  
"Right now, I don't know what to think," the hanyou replied, voice filled with doubt and fear.  
"I won't leave you, Inuyasha. Never voluntarily, never willingly. There won't be anyone else."  
So much fear, Miroku thought desperately. And insecurity. So many emotions underneath that hard-nosed shell of a warrior. But his womanizing days had been over for a long time now. For months. Ever since their first encounter in that clearing. He had fallen in love with Inuyasha and he knew that there was no way back.  
Miroku laid a hand on the bowed head and pulled him closer. Inuyasha let himself fall, laying his head on Miroku's lap as tender fingers caressed his hair, and the two men stayed together, each pondering his own thoughts.

* * *

They left the hut to the sight of the sun just rising over the horizon. Their friends were there, standing in the small village, looking worried and fearful, but when Inuyasha emerged at Miroku's side, Kagome's face lit up in a smile.  
"Inuyasha!" she called.  
He couldn't find the feeling inside of him that had been there months before, the joy at her presence, the way he felt she was something special. Yes, she still was special, just like Kikyo, but Kagome hadn't been the one he had needed.  
"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly. "We went back to the cave and found all that blood… Are you hurt?"  
"No," he answered brusquely.  
She frowned, two sharp lines appearing on her young face, then her eyes fell on Miroku.  
"Miroku…?"  
"We're both fine," the monk replied calmly. "No permanent harm was done."  
Sango stepped forward, running a critical eye over the man in front of her, taking in the black kimono that wasn't his. Then her eyes fell on the scarred left forearm.  
"What happened?" she demanded.  
"The curse happened!" Inuyasha growled, then pushed past her.  
Miroku sighed as she hanyou got some distance between them. "Inuyasha became his demon self and I held him inside the cave with a barrier."  
"He got you?" Sango asked matter-of-factly, taking his left arm and inspecting it.  
"Yes, but the healer of this village took care of the wounds. I'm fine."  
Her clear dark eyes burned into his, seeking the truth, then she let go of his hand, nodding. His brief explanation was accepted.  
Miroku watched as Kagome approached Inuyasha, trying to talk to him. She received answers, but probably didn't like them. Miroku turned back to the old woman who had watched them silently. He bowed.  
"Thank you, healer."  
Aiko nodded, then disappeared into her home.  
"Are you all right?" Sango asked.  
He gave her a smile. "Yes."  
She looked at Inuyasha again, who stood at the edge of the small village, apparently eager to leave. Kagome was with him, but she kept her distance, and Shippo just silently trailed after Miroku and Sango.  
The small group continued their journey. Miroku watched his lover thoughtfully, noted how silent and closed he was, how he kept ahead of them – to scout, he claimed.  
"He did change then, despite Tetsuseiga," Sango murmured after a while.  
Miroku nodded. "Yes, the demon came through. The curse is lifted, though. It won't happen again."  
"I hope so for his sake."  
It earned her a sharp look.  
"If he had gotten free, he would have killed everyone in his way," the demon huntress added. "And I would have stopped him."  
"He didn't get out," Miroku replied, voice harder and edgier than normal. "Inuyasha is our friend. I thought you had understood that by now."  
"Twelve hours with him have made you short-tempered, monk."  
"Twelve hours? Try twelve weeks. The old woman put a time barrier around us." He raised his scarred arm. "It's how she managed to heal this so quickly."  
Sango's eyes widened. "Twelve weeks? But… impossible!"  
"Nothing is impossible, Sango. Nothing."  
Her dark eyes narrowed slightly. "What happened in there?"  
Miroku gave her a half-smile. "An understanding, Sango. An understanding."


End file.
